


I Hate Wonderland

by JaneApricity



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Crossover, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, James "Bucky" Barnes is Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Light Angst, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Storybrooke, Wakanda, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneApricity/pseuds/JaneApricity
Summary: Bucky keeps having PTSD-induced dreams, but everything he says is in Russian. What does Steve learn when Natasha translates?





	1. Chapter One

"выкл с головой."

Bucky was mumbling in his sleep again.

Their job had been to wait in the hotel room in case Nat needed them. She didn't want "the boys tagging along and getting in the way", so she'd plopped them down in room 221 and told them to stay put.

But they got bored, and the drive had been killer. So they swapped some shut-eye, one napping and the other keeping an ear on Natasha's progress.

"And target sighted," said Nat's voice from the speakers. Bucky mumbled something else before rolling over.

"I've got to crack down on learning Russian," Steve muttered.

"What does that have to do with the mission, Cap?" Natasha asked under her breath.

"Not a thing," Steve sighed.

"Then why'd you say it? Target in his car."

"Bucky."

"...he speaks English." There was a loud explosion on her end. "Target dealt with."

"Not when he's sleeping. I think the Winter Soldier comes back to him. In his dreams."

"Late target's guards opening fire," Nat said. "Opening return fire. So ask him about it!" she yelled over the flurry of gunshots."

"I did. He doesn't remember any of his dreams. I just thought that it might help his PTSD to get it out of his system. Did me some good."

There was another explosion, this one much closer to Natasha. "Grenades," she commented. "You sure he just doesn't want to talk about it?"

"Nat, I'm his best friend. There's nothing we haven't told one another."

There was screaming and grunting, followed by the distinct sound of bones snapping. "Well let me have a listen. Late target's guards disabled."

Steve picked up the speaker and brought it closer to the bed where Bucky was still mumbling to himself. Then he set it back on the desk.

"Well?" he asked.

"In the getaway car. I don't know, Steve. Sounded like normal dreams to me. He said something about grace and hats. The only full sentence I caught was, 'I hate Wonderland.'"

Steve sighed. "Oh well. It was worth a shot."

"And mission complete," said Nat. A few minutes later, she crawled through the hotel room window, covered in blood and dust. She threw the room service menu at Bucky, who sat up drowsily. "Let's say we order some stuffed mushrooms and call it a day."

"I don't want to collect more mushrooms, Regina," mumbled Bucky, falling back into the pillows, fast asleep.

Then he sat up, screaming. "GRACE!"


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I've gotten a lot of fantastic feedback from the community about this story and finally got the time to expand it into a full book. I'll be alternating viewpoints and moods. Bucky's will be a little less comedic than other chapters. I would love about the things that you guys would like to see in future chapters, however! -J.A.

Bucky refused to say anything more.

Truth be told, he regretted saying what little he already had. Apparently, he had mumbled enough in his sleep that Steve and Natasha knew something was wrong, even without him waking up screaming.

Grace. The word rang in his head. Only it wasn't a word. Not unless words had faces.

Bucky had felt this before when he was the Winter Soldier and Steve was trying to get through to him. But that was impossible. Hydra took one life from him. It would be impossible for him to have two lives to be taken away. Wasn't it?

He stared at his boots, expression surly. No one bothered trying to bring it up. Not for several days. They went their separate ways after a while, Natasha slinking back to whatever life she now called her own while Steve went off to chase some new conquest of his.

Bucky went to a hotel room.

Hotel rooms were his home now. He didn't bother trying to get a real apartment or house. What would be the point? It would probably get blown up. Or one of the "Avengers" would move in. Or he would leave one day, afraid of making memories there only to have them torn away someday.

Memories. They never did leave Bucky alone, even if he didn't have them anymore.

What did he remember of Grace anyways? Her name. Her face. She was so small. He didn't know who she was, but a part of him was in awe of something so tiny. In a way, it reminded him of Old Steve. Brooklyn Steve.

And now Bucky was so big. He was sprawling and bloody, crushing everything around him. He tried to cultivate something more gentle. He remembered caressing plums in Bucharest. He hadn't even bruised them, even though he was using his metal arm.

Could he do it again?

It didn't matter. Whoever Grace was, whoever she had been to Bucky, he would never see her again. Every time that Bucky went into the cryogenic room in Wakanda, he wondered if anyone he knew would still be alive by the time he was let out.

Something horrible occurred to him just before he was frozen again. What if Grace had been from the Red Room? One of those little girls he had to train. One of many. One small girl who stood out.

What would make a child stand out? Because she was too sweet to do the horrible things he tried to teach her? Because she was too good at doing the horrible things he did teach her?

Because she couldn't learn at all and died?

They were not sweet thoughts before sleep. But they must have frozen inside Bucky's head, because the next time he was pulled out of his slumber, they were the first thing that came to him.

"Grace," he said. It was little more than a whisper. He wasn't even sure that T'Challa had heard him.

But a woman who stood beside him had.

"Grace?" a woman said. "Has God been weighing on your mind?"

Bucky stared at her. The Scarlet Witch, some called her. Bucky couldn't remember her other name yet. This woman's magic seemed so strange the first time that he had seen it, but now it reminded him of Grace. No, not Grace. It reminded him of someone who reminded him of Grace.

"Regina?" he asked.

"This is Wanda," said T'Challa. "Do you not remember?"

Bucky looked at his boots, hair falling in front of his face. He couldn't remember anything that mattered.

"We need your help," Wanda said.

Bucky nodded.

Would someone help him?


	3. Chapter Three

"I want help," Bucky said. He had approached her after the mission was over before he was going back to Wakanda. 

Wanda looked up at him. The Winter Soldier had dark circles under his eyes, turned-down corners of his mouth and an even more wild tangle to his hair than when she'd first met him. He was standing defensively like he thought she might try to tackle him. Bucky always looked out of place, but he looked more so than ever standing outside a small pizza shop in the city of Las Vegas. 

"What can I help you with?" Wanda said. She took a bite of her pizza, eyebrows raised. 

"My memories." Bucky sat down across from Wanda in a way that made her think he was afraid of breaking the chair beneath him. 

Wanda frowned. "You don't have all of those back?" 

Bucky shook his head, eyes not meeting hers. 

Wanda set down the pizza slice, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together. She wondered if this was why Bucky had felt strangely distant during the whole mission. "If you know that something is missing, there must be a little something that reminds you of it. Yes?" 

Nod. 

She hesitated. "What reminded you?" 

"Grace." Bucky's already husky voice broke on the word. 

"You said that when you first woke up," Wanda said slowly. 

"A person. A girl. I barely remember her," he said. "I don't know who she was, but she won't leave me alone." 

"You've seen her? Or just memories of her?" Wanda asked. 

"Memories," Bucky said. "But not enough to know anything." He looked nervous, running his fingers along his metal arm. 

"Are you trying to find her again?" 

"No," Bucky said, a little too quickly. 

One second. 

Two. 

"Maybe," he admitted. "I don't know... I don't know if she's still alive." 

"This will be difficult," Wanda said. "But I'll try to do what I can, yes?" She reached out, pressing her fingertips to Bucky's forehead. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly. 

Wanda winced. Bucky's memories were painful. That didn't just mean that Bucky had led a difficult life; his memories had been altered so often that they hurt Wanda to try to sift through. 

Grace. She could only find fragments of any sort of little girl. Whoever she had been, Hydra had been very careful with keeping Bucky from recalling her. But even Hydra can't control people's dreams. 

Wanda delved deeper into Bucky's dreams. They were in black and white, and all the words were Russian. That was strange. Wanda wove together strands of different dreams, trying to construct something more concrete that she could use to cross-reference with other memories and dreams. It was tedious and painful, but all happened in only a few seconds for Bucky. 

She pulled back her fingers. 

"There isn't much," she admitted. "Your mind is very..." 

"Broken," Bucky said, voice hoarse. 

Wanda nodded. There was no way to sugarcoat that fact. 

"But I put a little together," Wanda said. "I saw something about a town called Storybrooke, and a place that you call the Enchanted Forest. You talk about mushrooms and a top hat, and even Wonderland. Code names, maybe, from a particular mission where you met her?" 

Bucky's eyes stayed on the table, hair falling in front of his face. He was breathing shallowly. Wanda didn't know if he was processing this information or recovering from her manipulation of his mind. 

"Storybrooke. Where do I find Storybrooke?" he asked. 

"She may not be there anymore," Wanda said. "You are... very old. She could be grown up." 

"She could be dead," Bucky said flatly. "Where is Storybrooke?" 

Wanda hesitated. 

"You're going to visit it, aren't you?" 

Bucky nodded. 

"Then you will find Steve and I will find a car," Wanda said. "We'll go to Maine before you go back to Wakanda." 

 

Wanda didn't know why she wanted to help Bucky. He certainly hadn't asked for anything except information. But what else would she do? And even though they were nothing alike, something about Bucky reminded Wanda of Pietro. 

"Thank you." Bucky got up, his expression not changing so much as a flicker before he walked out into the streets of Las Vegas. 

 _It must be something very small_ , Wanda thought to herself. 


End file.
